


Mirror Mirror

by ArthurtheGatekeeper



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Injury, Long-Distance Relationship, Look i just gave them a facetime app but magic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Namely Jaskier's father, Yennefer and Geralt are the loves of each others lives but not Yet, mention of Jaskier's mortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26332399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthurtheGatekeeper/pseuds/ArthurtheGatekeeper
Summary: Geralt had a magic mirror. When he opened the compact sometimes there would be another person staring back at him. Usually Jaskier. It was pretty much always Jaskier.Which was nice. Because he'd rather missed the man.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Vesemir, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 48
Kudos: 418





	Mirror Mirror

He flipped open the small compact and clicked it closed again. Hopefully she hadn’t lied about it being valuable. But it had been all she had to pay with anyway.

He left it open and rolled over on the bed. Spread out. Enjoying the soft space. The bed just his.

“The hell? Is. Do mirrors break? If I turned into a vampire Geralt’s going to be so upset with me. When would that have even happened?”

“Jaskier?” He sat up. Looking around the room for the source of his voice.

“Geralt? What- was that you?”

He stood. Searching the room for the hidden- hidden whatever that allowed this. Jaskier gasped.

“There you are!” He turned to the sound.

And there, in his stupid nightshirt, was Jaskier. An image in the tiny compact.

“How are you doing this?”

“You tell me! You’re the one in my mirror! And I’m pretty sure Falwick didn’t enchant a bedroom in the guest wing and then give said room to me.”

He turned the compact around. Jaskier made a gagging protest. Studying the circle of markings on its back. Whatever language it was in he couldn’t read it.

“Okay whatever you just did don’t do that again. You’re making me motion sick.”

He closed the compact. Sat down on the bed and reopened it.

Jaskier blinked at him. “And you’re back.”

“What happened?”

“Mirror went back to normal. So. How’d you’d get your hands on a magic mirror Geralt?”

“Job. Didn’t know it was magic.”

“Hm. Do you know what it does? I know you were probably going to pawn it-”

“Can’t. Not until I know it’s not dangerous.”

“Any clues?”

“There’s an inscription on it but I can’t read it.”

“Can you make me a rubbing? I can certainly try to translate it. Although seeing it for myself would be helpful.”

“If I still have it next time we meet you can take a look.”

“Wonderful. Well. Since I have you here let me tell you about the feast last night- It was _terrible_ and even my presence couldn’t salvage the night.” He began his story. Arms gesturing widely. He laid down in the bed and listened to his familiar cadence. 

“Geralt if you’re going to fall asleep at least close the compact. I’d hate to be accused of witchcraft again.” Jaskier eventually requested.

He forced his thumb to move against the stillness of sleep already settled into his frame and closed it with a click.

He flicked it open on the path.

Only his face reflected back.

He closed it.

“Miss me?”

“No.” He told him as he sat the compact next to him by the fire. “Don’t have to share when you’re gone.”

“And I don’t have to eat rabbit!” He took a bite of said rabbit. Enjoying it. He groaned his satisfaction pointedly. “So tell me how you acquired this magic mirror.”

He wiped a drip from his chin and did.

“Eskel?”

“Geralt?”

“Magic mirror.”

“Neat.” He grabbed a chair and sat down in front of his mirror. “How’s it work?”

“No idea. It’s only ever called Jaskier before.”

“Your bard?” His eyebrows raised. “Huh. How’s the season treating you?”

“Not bad. Just found a contract for a wyvern.”

They talked. When Eskel retired he flipped the compact open and closed a few times. Hoping- no not hoping – actually there was no one else here- Hoping for the familiar backdrop of Jaskier’s bedroom.

All that reflected back was his face. He rolled over. He was happy. He’d gotten to talk to Eskel. He’d missed Eskel.

He just missed Jaskier too.

“How’s the translation coming?”

“Wonderfully!” He paused. “No wait you’re not my professor. I’m stuck. I’ve got about half the words but I can’t make out enough of the detail through the compact to be sure I’ve got the conjugation correct and I just don’t know the other half. But once the rubbing you sent arrives and the dictionary I ordered from Oxenfurt shows up I’ll have it done.”

“Hm.”

“Have you contacted anyone else on this?”

“Saw Eskel last week.”

“Oh!” He sighed in what sounded like relief. “That’s good then.”

“Why?”

“Well it doesn’t just call me.”

“I don’t know how it decides who to call. I’m not picking.”

“I know, else you wouldn’t call me every night. I assume he had a mirror?”

“Hm.” He confirmed the second half. Didn’t comment on the accuracy of the first. “What do you have so far?”

“Just a handful of words honestly. Not that it’s a terribly long inscription, the language is just a difficult one. This symbol,” He raised the rough copy he’d made of the compact’s inscription, “Is the word for hand. Or to hand? It might be the verb. Handing? But this one’s definitely mirror. Or. Mirror conjugated. Reflect? Look they weren’t a huge fan of nouns so any direct translation is going to be a bit freeform.”

“What’s the one at the top?” It had a single word written above it. The others all were surrounded by Jaskier’s distracted scratching.

“Ah.” He looked down at the paper, frowning. “That one means heart.” His hand came up unbidden to his chest. Would it do something to his heart as a price for using it? “In the poetic sense.” He breathed out.

“Alright then.”

Jaskier’s frown deepened. He threw the paper away dismissively. “Now tell me how Eskel was. You didn’t mention him before.”

He rolled his eyes and did.

“You know my contract’s almost up. We could meet up.”

The fire crackled next to him as he oiled Roach’s saddle. The corner of his lip twitched upward. “I like being able to shut you up with a flick of my finger.”

Jaskier made several overly dramatic offended noises. It was harder to hide the upward bend of his mouth. “Well I like not having to smell you when we speak!” He squawked finally.

“Don’t miss your overpowering perfumes.”

“Don’t miss your nasty socks.”

“Don’t miss you star fishing out on the bed.”

“Don’t miss you stealing all the blankets!”

“Don’t miss how you always steal the carrots from my stews.”

“And I don’t miss freezing my ass off under the stars!”

He stopped. The grin that had grown falling like a tree. “You don’t?”

Jaskier’s voice was much quieter when he responded. “Well I miss the part where you keep me warm.”

Something in his chest eased. “Oh. Alright then.”

There were several long moments of silence then. He listened to the fire and Roach and didn’t miss the sound of Jaskier’s heartbeat next to him. “Think you could swing by Oxenfurt in about three weeks?”

“I could.”

Jaskier smiled at him in the small mirror. “See you soon then.” The smile grew mischievous. “Or I suppose more accurately, smell you soon.”

He clicked the mirror closed.

If he reopened it a few moments later that was no one’s business but his own.

He opened the mirror as he stopped for lunch. Set it on the ground next to him. He didn’t usually but it was hot and Roach needed the break.

He didn’t expect Jaskier on the other end. Afternoon was a busy time for him.

That didn’t mean he expected Lambert’s voice carrying through.

“Fucking asshole cat ditching me when I fucking need him. Fucking lucky asshole manticore. Fucking miserable life that’s a piece of fucking hell.”

“Lambert?” He didn’t scramble over to the mirror. He didn’t. There was no one around to say otherwise. “You got attacked by a manticore?”

“What the fuck?” The wound disappeared and Lambert’s face came into view. A crack ran down the center of the image and a small section of the bottom reflected the tree behind Geralt instead. “Geralt? What the fuck?”

“Magic mirror. Let me see the injury.”

“What? No fuck you I can handle it.”

“Lambert.” He growled. “Let me help.”

His face held firm for a painfully long time before he looked away. The injury coming into view with a blur of motion.

“Alright. It doesn’t look too deep, you already took a potion right?”

“Yes I already took a potion. Get off my ass, I know what I’m doing.”

The mirror was shaking slightly. He’d looked so pale. The fact he was listening at all a worrying sign about how hurt he really was.

“I know. Let’s sow this up huh?”

“Yeah alright.”

“He was complaining about a cat running away? I thought cats didn’t like Witchers.”

“They don’t. When I asked about it he got upset.”

“In his defense if I’d found the first cat that liked me after a lifetime without and then it ran away I’d be pretty upset too.”

“Hm.” He wondered what it felt like to pet a cat. Maybe Lambert would tell them this winter. “Any luck translating it?”

“Have you seen Yennefer recently? She could always tell you what the enchantment is.”

“Not in the last three months.”

“Bout due for a run in with the witch then.” Jaskier continued moving around his room. Packing. “Don’t let her talk down to you again.”

“I’m not human Jaskier.” He sighed. “She’s not saying anything that’s not true.”

Jaskier’s face came into frame. Angry and hard. Pointing at him. He braced for a lecture.

Instead he sighed heavily. Shook his head. “You’re more human than most men I’ve met. You feel Geralt. Stop letting people treat you as if you don’t. Especially not someone you love.”

He looked away. Lilac and gooseberry. “What am I doing wrong?”

“I don’t know. Running off before breakfast probably wasn’t your best move but. Geralt you can’t make someone love you. And even if they do, even if you both do, that doesn’t always mean you’re good for each other.” He hung his head. Buried it in his hands. “At this moment. Geralt. Maybe one day you two will be great for each other.”

“Your advice is give it _time_?” His words were garbled by his hands and the hollow in his chest.

“I’m saying both of you need to change if you want it to work out. Not just you or just her. And that takes time.” Jaskier’s voice moved closer. Sad reassurance in his tone. “Hey. Come on Geralt. You two have plenty of time to figure it out. I’m sure she’s the love of your life.” Jaskier swallowed hard. “Maybe you’re just not at that chapter yet.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Meet me in Oxenfurt.” He looked at the mirror. Jaskier’s eyes look watery but he smiled brightly. “That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“Don’t forget your soap in the bathroom again.”

Jaskier cursed and scampered off to grab it.

Lilac and gooseberry filled his lungs. His head. An empty space in his chest.

She reached into his bag, pulling out the compact as he dozed.

She spoke in an unfamiliar language. He opened his eyes to look at her. The way her raven hair fluttered down her neck and back. The grace in her posture. The curve of her-

The compact Clicked open.

The mirror mounted on the wall shifted its perspective of Yennefer.

“Oh so it works for _you_.” He grumbled. Scrubbing his face with his hands in frustration.

“How long have you had this?”

“Hm. Two months maybe?”

“You’ve used it.”

“Hm.” He agreed throwing an arm over his eyes. “Every night.”

“And someone’s on the other end?”

“Jaskier mostly. Got Eskel and Lambert once or twice.”

“But never me.”

“I’ve tried. I don’t know how it works but it’s never connected to you.” He looked at the mirror in the room. Still steadily projecting Yennefer to him. “You should keep it.”

“Why?” Her tone concerningly frigid.

“So you can call me. Whenever you want.”

The compact clicked closed. Was dropped on the nightstand. A portal opened.

And she was gone.

“What does the mirror say Jaskier?” He demanded when the damn thing finally went through. He’d had the rubbing for weeks. The dictionary for plenty of time. He’d been avoiding the question and he was sick and tired of it and he wanted to know why Yennefer had left and what he’d done wrong and-

“Geralt! Geralt what happened? Why are you upset?”

“I saw Yen today.” He put the compact down to avoid it shattering it in his hand. “Answer me.”

“Oh Geralt.”

“She never comes through but when she opened it the mirror worked for her. It opened the mirror in my room. And then she left. So stop avoiding the fucking question and answer me!”

“I.” His jaw opened and closed for several seconds. He closed his eyes. Took a breath. Opened them. Face distant and impassive. “The rough translation is the mirror is a reflection of the hearts you hold in your hand.”

“It showed Yen me but not me Yen.”

“That seems to be gist of it, yes.”

He slammed the mirror closed.

He didn’t open the mirror the next night.

Or the one after that. Or after that.

He still ended up in Oxenfurt. Wandering Jaskier’s common haunts in search of him.

The fourth night he gave up and opened the mirror.

It looked like a ceiling. A fancy ceiling. Which was odd.

The image distorted. Twisted. There was a nose and lips at the bottom of the image in a very odd manner. “Jaskier?” He asked as the image continued to slosh and shift confusingly.

The movement stilled. Jaskier’s blue eyes peering down at him. His hair disheveled and dark bruises of exhaustion underlining the red of his eyes. “fuck.” Came his quiet reply. “Shut up.”

The image shifted again and a few moments later his own face stared back at him.

He clicked it open and closed until a bedroom came into view. Far nicer than an inn but definitely not his room at Oxenfurt either. A distant grunt and the creak of a mattress announcing he’d fallen into bed.

“Jaskier? Where are you?”

“Just shut up Geralt. Not in the mood tonight.”

“I’m in Oxenfurt. At the inn near the blacksmiths.”

“Great. Have fun.”

“Jaskier?”

“I’m not in Oxenfurt so just piss off.”

His gut curdled. “You left without me?” He knew he’d fucked up but he didn’t think Jaskier would leave without him. “Did you go to Novigrad?” Jaskier liked Novigrad in small doses. In small doses he could pretend it wasn’t controlled by the church of the eternal fire. “I can catch up. Just tell me which way you went.”

“I’m not in fucking Novigard. Just piss off Geralt.” His voice was tight and watery. Like he was barely holding back a sob. “Please.”

“Jaskier?” He tried to look around the room. But while overly fancy- a noble’s estate perhaps?- it offered no clues to his local. “What’s wrong?”

A broken sob. “You’d know if you hadn’t been ignoring me for weeks.” His breath hitched and he listened to Jaskier cry.

“I’m sorry.” It felt odd to say. They didn’t apologize. But he didn’t know what else to say as he was forced to listen to his rapid breaths. To the way he swallowed wails. “Talk to me Jaskier.” He plead. Unable to. Plan. To make whatever it was right. To fight whoever had hurt him.

Unable to hold him.

His voice, high and pleading, begged, “Go away.”

His fingers twitched on the compact. He should respect Jaskier’s boundaries. Back off. He didn’t want Geralt right now. Was still probably mad at Geralt.

Jaskier sobbed again and he couldn’t.

“I saw a dog yesterday. Covered in mats and mange. Made me think of that time you followed me foglett hunting and got covered in mud. It looked almost as pathetic as you did back then.” That. Was probably not the story to tell him when he was crying. But he didn’t get louder. Didn’t tell him to stop.

“You know once I had to go to dinner with Zoltan and his fisherman friends. Told them my favorite way to fish was with bombs. You should have seen their faces.” 

_Do you? Fish with bombs?_ He heard Jaskier asking.

He didn’t ask. But he pretended he had. “Not a very effective fishing method though. Sometimes we use it to break the ice. On the pond. The one near Kaer Morhen. Sometimes it’ll kill a fish or two. Which is actually mostly gross. Fish guts everywhere.”

He kept talking. And talking. And talking. Until Jaskier stopped sobbing. Stopped crying. Until his breathing on the other end was steady and slow.

“Jaskier?” He stopped his story. He hadn’t responded yet. He might even be asleep by now. “Where are you?”

The silence stretched. Asleep then. Or unwilling to answer. He could try again tomorrow.

“Lettenhove.” Jaskier whispered right before he bid him good night. “My father died.”

“Oh.” He tried to think if Jaskier had ever mentioned his parents. His family. If he had he couldn’t recall. “Were you. Close?”

“No.” He shuffled. Blankets moving. His voice was louder when he next spoke. “Not at all.”

“Are you.” He stared at the expensively decorated décor. “Staying?”

“No. I’d burn the place to the ground.”

“Best not add arson to your list of crimes.” There was a quick huff that almost sounded like a laugh. “Can I come?”

Silence.

He waited.

“Can we meet in Aedirn instead? I don’t want to stay here.”

“Okay.”

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Course.” He smiled a little as he remembered one of Jaskier’s favorite lines. “Anything for a friend.”

His smile faded in the pause after. “Right.” Jaskier whispered eventually.

“Go to sleep Jaskier.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He cursed. The cut was just out of sight and every time he twisted to look at it, it tore a little wider. Or it felt like it did anyway.

He flipped open the compact. If someone answered hopefully they’d help. Hopefully no one would answer and he could just do this himself. He could do this by himself. He knew how.

Hopefully Jaskier wouldn’t answer. Jaskier was. He didn’t want Jaskier to see this.

The compact didn’t reflect his face.

Vesemir glared at him on the other end.

He closed his eyes with a soft curse.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not going to ask about the mirror?”

“You look half dead.”

“Thanks. Bear got a lucky shot. Can’t get a good look at it.”

“Show me.”

He did.

“Alright. Here’s what you’re going to do.” Vesemir directed him on the other end. His hands stopped shaking quite so much as he followed Vesemir’s steady directions. Paced his breathing to his.

“Lucky shot huh?”

“There was a little girl.” He told him. Darkness. Sleep. Maybe death was coming for him.

He sighed. “You never could say no to a girl in need.”

“Not a very good witcher.” Taking jobs without pay. Dad always scolded him for that.

“Nope. It’s a real bad habit of yours.” His Father sighed. “No dying lad. Someone’s gotta clean the baths this winter.”

“Hate that job.”

“I know.”

“Dad?”

A pause. “Yes Geralt?”

“Stay.”

“Not going anywhere son. Promise.”

“Meet in town tomorrow?”

“Hm.” He leaned back and listened to Jaskier pluck out a melody.

“Great.” He turned to look at the image. It still just reflected the stars. Occasionally the image would ripple. “Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Has. Anyone else come through?”

“Vesemir. When I got injured.”

“Good. I’m glad you weren’t alone then.” He paused. It felt. Weighted. Charged. “Anyone else?”

“No Yennefer if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It was.” He admitted apologetically. 

“Does that mean she doesn’t love me?” Would never love him?

“Not. Necessarily.” The music stopped. “It said it reflects the hearts you hold in your hands. So people who love you yes. But. Not everyone who loves you gives you their heart.”

“You think that’s it? That she loves me but hasn’t given her heart to me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t pretend to understand Yennefer Geralt.” He sighed. Fingers drumming on the wood. “It’s a possibility.”

“You don’t like Yennefer.”

“Am I not allowed to dislike a women who threatened to make a eunuch of me on our first meeting?”

“Lots of people threaten you with that.”

“And I’m not a fan of most of those people.”

“Hm.” Roach passed into his view. “Do you think if I put a mirror in Roach’s stable I could see her?”

Jaskier laughed. “I’m sure you could.” He turned out a quick tune about him and Roach.

He liked that one a lot.

“You called her the love of my life.”

“Roach? She certainly is.”

“Yennefer.”

The quiet dragged on. He waved his hand over the compact to make sure it was still connected. That Jaskier hadn’t knocked over the bowl of water.

“The poet in me says she is. The love of your life. And he is so rarely wrong in the matters of love.”

“The poet in you said you’d love the Countess de Stael forever.”

“And I will! There are many kinds of love Geralt. So what if it’s not the kind I imagined when I said that.”

There were different kinds of love. Different kinds that he had for Eskel and Lambert and Vesemir. Different kinds for Yennefer. For Jaskier.

“She’s the love of your life Geralt. I can see that. But maybe you’re not at that chapter yet.”

“Which chapter am I on?” Jaskier didn’t answer. “What kind of love do you have for me Jaskier?”

The lute was as silent as the man on the other end.

“I have your heart in my hands and I have no idea why Jaskier!” His volume raising unintentionally. Roach glared at him. “Why are you always the one on the other end?”

“You’re one of the best men I’ve ever known. You’re my friend. Is this answer enough?”

“You love me like Eskel then?” He sat up. Holding the mirror in front of him. As if it might show him something besides stars. “You love me like Lambert? You don’t love me like I love Yennefer?”

“I’m not sure I’m capable of loving you like Lambert. He sounds like quite the man.”

He growled. “Jaskier.” 

“Does it matter?”

“What?”

“Does it matter how I love you Geralt? I do. Is that not enough? I love you and I will continue to love you no matter how you love me.”

“And if I don’t love you?” He snapped. “If you open the mirror and I never reflect back? Will you love me then?”

“Yes.” Came the firm reply. “I will.”

His arms extended. Trying to push the starry sky as far away as he could. “ _Why_?”

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t understand even if I explained it. Would probably make your confusion worse if we’re honest.”

“Try.” He demanded through clenched teeth.

A resigned sigh. “Because you are the love of my life Geralt. And I want to be a chapter of yours.”

His fingers slammed the compact closed.

He stood. Paced the distance of his camp. Twisting the chain of the medallion around his neck. Running his fingers over the inscription on the mirror.

Love of his life. He wasn’t the love of Jaskier’s life. He wasn’t. Jaskier had to want more than that. Then to be a chapter in his. He couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed. Wasn’t allowed to love him and be okay with receiving nothing in return.

He clicked the damn thing open to tell him that.

Music played on the other end.

He sat down. Head tucked between his knees.

The song came to an end.

“You’re not allowed to be okay with that.” Came out in a whisper. “You’re not. You deserve better.”

Jaskier hummed. “I do. But that’s not really up to me Geralt.” The strings played out another melody. “The question is how do you love me?”

His throat worked but no words came. He curled further into his knees.

“It’s okay, whatever the answer is Geralt. If it’s as a friend, a lover or. Or as nothing.”

“It’s not.”

“It is. You don’t owe me love in return for mine Geralt. You don’t owe me any fraction of your heart.” There was shuffling on the other end. He didn’t bother to look at the mirror. “But you do care about me. Even if I never have a part of your heart. You care. That will be enough.”

“It’s not.”

“You’re right. I’m a greedy bastard.”

A smile found its way around the misery in his chest.

“Can we still meet tomorrow? Or. Do you need time?”

He wanted to say no. He needed time. Months or years. Decades. He couldn’t do this right now.

_You two have plenty of time to figure it out._

But Jaskier didn’t. They didn’t have centuries for him to figure it out.

One day. One day, unimaginably soon, Jaskier would be out of time.

His chapter would be over.

There was a space in his arms when he laid down at night where Jaskier wasn’t and a spot by his side at the campfire for his overpowering perfumes and the soft beating of his heart.

_Give me a week. Just a week._ He almost said. But his arms ached to wrap around his chest. To smell whatever scent he’d decided to wear this season.

He wanted to see him. Free from the distortions of dusty unpolished mirrors or rippling water.

He missed Jaskier and listening to the cadence of his voice through the mirror was no longer enough.

“No. Tomorrows fine.”

“If you’re sure.” Came the startled reply.

“I am.”

“Do you want me to play some more?”

“Please.”

It wasn’t hard to find him in a town this size. He heard him playing in the square.

Saw him dancing in the street. Feet hitting the ground as his voice, his lute, his joy filled the space.

_How do you love me?_

Jaskier beamed at the crowd as they stomped their feet in time.

He wanted to run. To him. From him. Wanted to stay right in this moment when Jaskier was happy and alive and in front of him. Stay here forever.

_You two have plenty of time._

His feet moved forward.

The song finished as he stepped in front of him. Sweat wetting his brow. Masking this year’s scent of. Pine.

Jaskier looked at him. Eyes shinning.

_How do you love me?_

_Like this._ He realized as he kissed him. Pulled him into his arms. Jaskier kissed back eagerly.

“Sorry I didn’t ask before doing that.” He apologized when he pulled back.

“Oh never mind that now. We should probably run before they string us up.” He cast a look at the crowd, distinctly less friendly than a few moments before.

“I think you’re right.”

And off they ran.

Jaskier traced his fingers over the inscription. Repeating out loud the words Yennefer spoke all those weeks ago.

He looked down at his mess kit. Poured enough water in for a reflection.

“Wanna try?”

Jaskier’s fingers traced the clasp that held it closed. “Knowing what it does makes that a rather nerve wracking task.”

“Why?”

He rubbed his fingers together. “Because until you look there’s always a chance theirs no one on the other end.”

“There will be. Most of your friends love their mirrors.” He leaned over and shoved his shoulder. “And there’s always me.” He lifted the bowl demonstratively.

Jaskier’s lips drew into a line but he clicked it open.

The bowl shifted. “Hi there.”

“Right back at you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you had fun! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Keep your stick on the ice yall! Love you!


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